The Flow

Юрий Розвадовский
       I hasten to the blackish cover,
       Unlock the rusty dusty bolt,
       Where my guitar lies there, my power,
       With her sweet slumbers in that volt.

       I wake her own and take precautions,
       Embrace her body like a bride.
       Then I pluck strings with rapid motions
       And make my favour chord so tight.

       Chorus:
       Hey-hey-hey! Over here and there
       I can see hills, and seas, and lights.
       Hey-hey-hey! Someone draws my hand -
       God or demon from heaven' heights.

       So my guitar begins to tremble.
       She maybe laughs or maybe cries.
       And I just feel that something happened
       Inside of me or in the skies.

       And fingers aren't in my own power,
       I hold my breath and close my eyes.
       It's not a market, not a tower,-
       There is an earthy paradise.

       Chorus.


© Copyright: Юрий Розвадовский, 2008
Свидетельство о публикации №108062400598
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